Arne Weinberg – Alpha & Omega

Arne Weinberg - Alpha & Omega

As bassline house and UK funky emerges emphatically from London, the home of cutting edge minimal and techno is, and arguably always has been, Berlin. But while nearly all techno king pins, including the likes of Michael Mayer, Superpitcher, Ewan Pearson, and Ricardo Villalobos continue to operate out of Deutschland, one 4/4 minded German has recently made the switch to the slightly grittier climes of central Glasgow.

Arne Weinberg has been crafting delicate techno and ambient records since 2001. His record label has been an entity since 2004, and is just releasing his first full length since the relocation to Scotland. Weinberg’s exodus from the epicentre of techno will not come as too much of a surprise to fans. His brand of rattly electronica is far more akin to the producers over at Soma records – Glasgow’s premier techno label.

Weinberg’s is a thin, wiry sound with sparse atmospherics, quite alien to the warm, layered template as preferred by his contintental peers. As a consequence, and as with several albums on Soma as well, Alpha & Omega is not immediately accessible. Yet after a while you begin to familiarise yourself with the arch of its narrative, which subtly builds near the heart of the album, and then dies down to simmer at the end. Both in sound and structure, therefore, Weinberg shares more than just a passing similarity with a Scottish and Soma contemporary – Vector Lovers. But even that artist’s records aren’t as coldly metallic as Alpha & Omega. It brims with skittled hi-hats and whistly synth pads, all unfolding neatly and with little fuss.

‘Nightstalker’ is its most potent weapon. Starting out at first like Silicone Soul, them mutating into a complex, Slam-like work-out, it is perhaps the most dancefloor leaning track on the disc. The seven-and-a-half minutes of the laborious ‘Synthetic Dissection’ takes the wind out of the album’s sails (/ sales?), before picking up a little for the broody ‘Defining Negative Spaces’ and tech-housey ‘Eclectic Spiral’. Ultimately, it seems you can take the the musician out of Germany, but you can’t take Germany out of the musician. You’re left with a feeling that Weinberg is an accomplished techno producer, but it is all a little bit measured, mechanical, and, crucially, too serious.

Even Kraftwerk had a sense of humour. For those of you casually dipping into the genre now and then, avoid this and wait for the second album from France’s Pantha du Prince, due for release later this year. It is more than likely to feature things Arne Weinberg chooses to ignore – some oomph, and more importantly, some heart and soul.

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